Child oh child with hair so fine
by Boobunny60
Summary: Look out the window, throw me the vine. Moriarty kills John's family and hides him away in a mansion's tower. Sherlock stumbles across this place while on a case. Will he rescue John from the tower? Rapunzel!John. Rated M for death and slash S/J ON HIATUS
1. There once was a Moriarty

Once upon a time there was a man named Moriarty. He was just starting out his career as a criminal and he hoped to one day be consulting criminal. He was 18 years old and had been in the drug dealing business for two years. He was feared and respected and no one would ever double cross him. One day he was making his rounds of collecting money from the local drug dealers of London that worked for him. His first stop was to see Mr. Watson who he knew had been keeping more than fifty percent of his drug money earnings. Moriarty would not tolerate this. Mr. Watson would be made an example of along with his wife. Moriarty's two body guards knocked down the front door of an unkempt flat.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Moriarty called out in a singsong voice. The guards searched the flat finding Mr. and Mrs. Watson in the bedroom with their bags half packed. "Trying to run are we?" He asked as the man and woman were forced on their knees in front of him.

"Please-" Mr. Watson started but he was kicked in the stomach and forced so shut up.

"I wonder if you have forgotten that only 20 percent of the drug money you earn is yours but here I find you've been keeping 50 percent. There's really no reason for that. I provide the drugs after all and for how much they cost I'd say 20 percent was enough for two people to live comfortably." Moriarty glared down at the Watsons but held a smile on his face.

"Daddy?" A small voice called out from behind Moriarty. The psychopath looked behind him to find a little blonde girl.

"No! Harriet run!" Mrs., Watson cried. The little girl tried to run but was grabbed by Moriarty. The psychopath held the five year old upside down by her leg.

"What have we here?" The little girl cried out for her mum and dad.

"Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this!" Mr. Watson yelled struggling against the man holding him in place. Moriarty smiled wide as if he'd just come up with a great idea.

"What better way to give an example to the other drug dealers than to kill an entire family just for stealing from me. Things are really looking up," Moriarty said happily. "Kill them." One of the guards took out a handgun with silencer and shot Mr. Watson in the head before he had time to scream. Mrs. Watson screamed but was soon shot between the eyes. Moriarty dropped the little girl. "Her too."

The guards did as he said reluctantly. One gaurd put the gun to the crying child's temple and pulled the trigger. The room was covered in the family's blood. Moriarty sighed in happiness but he then frowned at the sound of crying. The psychopath looked down at the bodies. They were all dead so where was that dreadful crying coming from.

Moriarty stepped around the bodies and walked down the hall toward the crying. He stopped at a door with four blue letters that spelled out the name John. He opened the door and the crying became louder than before. The room had baby blue walls. There was a changing table to the right and a dresser to the left and on the far side of the room was a white crib with a baby mobile hovering over the child. Moriarty peaked in to the crib to find a crying blonde baby wrapped in a blue blanket. He picked the baby boy up as if it were diseased, holding it at arm's length. They baby immediately stopped crying and reached out his little hands toward Moriarty with a smile.

"Sir?" One of the guards asked poking his head in to the room.

"We're taking this with us," Moriarty said bringing the baby to his chest. They baby snuggled up to him and closed his eyes to sleep. The psychopath wasn't sure why he didn't just kill this baby but he couldn't help just wanting it. As much as children disgusted him, this baby seemed different and he'd hate to admit it but the little one was cute.

Moriarty didn't finish collecting his money that day. Instead he took the baby home with him. He liked the baby very much and called it John because according to the baby's old bedroom door that was his name. But Moriarty knew he couldn't keep that baby with him all the time. Besides people might think he's gone soft letting a baby live when he should have killed it. John was hidden away in a large gothic mansion far from London in a deep dark forest.

To make sure John would never escape, he was locked in the mansion's tower never allowed to leave. His only link to the outside world was a window looking out over the fields and along the forest's edge.

:) :) :)

Once upon a time there was a baby born to a rich and intelligent family. His name was Sherlock Holmes and as his body grew so did his curiosity. He grew to be a genius just like his brother but different in many ways. His brother, Mycroft, subjected himself in to society and made his way to the top in the government and although the Holmes family never mentioned it, everyone knew Mycroft was the government. Sherlock however closed himself off from the world. He spent his days with experiments and then finally found his calling. He found solving crimes to be interesting and exciting and a way to cure his boredom. Sherlock came up with his own career as a consulting detective and although the Holmes family disapproved of it he carried on with the career happily.

One day Sherlock Holmes was on another case, he was 25 years old and had been at this business for 7 years. He had been on this case for three days now. The man he was after had killed three families with in the month the police were out of their depth and that's why Sherlock was called in. He had tracked the killer all around London and in to a deep forest.

Sherlock, of course, was always bad at taking backup with him but at least he had his skull with him which was useful for talking to. He followed foot prints and snapped twigs and whatever other clues the criminal left behind.

He mumbled quite a lot to the skull in his hand about which way the killer went and how he had put all the pieces together indicating who the killer was. Sherlock stopped mumbling as he walked in to a clearing. There in front of him stood a large, tall, old, gothic mansion. He walked toward the front door and noticed it had been broken in to; no doubt the killer was in there.

Lightning crackled as clouds rolled in making the whole scene of the house even creepier than it already was. He entered through the broken down door in to a dark room. Sherlock took a flash light out of his pocket and shined it all around.

The room was large with dust with cob webs all around. No one had lived in the mansion in a long time. To the left was a door way. Sherlock looked inside to find an undisturbed kitchen. He walked to the other side of the room carefully listening for the killer to make a noise. He looked through another door way and found an old looking bed room but it to was undisturbed. Sherlock walked to the far side of the room from the front door. There stood a closed door, he opened it but only to find a brick wall which was old as well and had obviously been there for a long time but yet the bricks weren't quite as old as the mansion itself.

Sherlock was then grabbed from behind and thrown on to the floor his skull was knocked from his hand and rolled across the room. The killer wrapped his hands around the detective's neck and started to choke him. Sherlock tried to push him away but the man was to strong. He began to suffocate when all of a sudden there was a noise other than Sherlock's struggles echoing through the mansion and outside.

It was humming. Someone was humming an unknown tune.

"Who's out there?" The killer called getting distracted enough for Sherlock to push him off. The man fell to the ground. Sherlock stood up but was knocked to the ground by a swipe under the feet. The killer ran out the door. Sherlock ran after him but stopped just before coming out of the mansion.

He saw the killer standing before a man slightly shorter than him a few feet away. Sherlock decided to hang back and see if maybe this was an accomplice of some sort. The humming continued until a gun shot rang out just as the lightning crackled in the dark cloudy sky. Sherlock watched as the killer fell to the ground.

The mysterious figure laughed a little and then walked around the mansion. Sherlock went out the door and discreetly followed the stranger. He got a closer look. The man was shorter than Sherlock, short black hair, and wore a nice looking suit. The man didn't notice Sherlock and spoke out to the mansion's tower.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine," The man said. With that a vine fell from the tower and he climbed up it. Sherlock watched the man disappear in to the tower and finally left the forest himself deciding to come back tomorrow and investigate further.

:) :) :)

John sat by the window and looked up at the dark clouds coming in. It seemed that there was a storm coming. He took a comb through his blond hair. His father was coming tonight, he came every three days. John wanted to look nice for his dad. After he finished combing his short blond hair he paced around the large open room.

Today was the day he planned on asking his dad to let him leave the tower. After all, he was 27. John was old enough to leave the tower by now. He sat down and looked out the window again and started to hum a made up tune. His humming echoed throughout the forest, he always liked that noise echoed like that. It was fun to yell out random things and hear the echoes.

Lightning crashed through the sky and John heard along with it a gun shot. He stopped his humming retreated in to the tower away from the window. He often heard shooting coming from the woods. His dad always told him it was just him hunting for food but what John didn't know was his 'dad' often had people killed in the forest if they undermined him in anyway.

It seemed an odd time to be hunting; John sat on his bed and listened.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine," A voice said. John did as he was told and threw out the vine. He always thought his dad's rhyme saying to be funny but he was told it was serious. Anyone could ask him to let then in, John was only aloud letting someone in if they knew the rhyme. But of course no one ever came but his dear old dad.

"Hello Johnny-boy!" Moriarty said climbing through the window. He walked toward John and gave him a big hug. John noticed his dad was always in a good mood after hunting, it must be fun.

"Hi dad," John said with a smile. His hands began to sweat. He was nervous about asking if he could to leave the tower. Moriarty put a basket on John's dining table on the other side of the room. The basket contained John's food for the next few days,

Moriarty wasn't a very good dad at all. He was violent at some points and caring at other points. John feared him when his mood was down but since his 'dad' was in a good mood it was a good time to ask. John sat on his bed with his dad next to him. Moriarty ran his fingers throw his 'son's' hair.

"Dad," John started. Moriarty gave him a kind smile as if to say 'please continue'. "Um, I'm 27 years old."

"Are you?" Moriarty said sarcastically.

"Yes," John smiled. "And I, um, I-" John couldn't seem to ask.

"It's okay Johnny-boy, you can ask me anything," Moriarty said pulling John in to a hug. The blond lay his head on his dad's chest as his dad petted his hair.

"Well, I thought that since I'm 27 that maybe I'd be old enough to leave my tower." John winced as Moriarty gripped his hair tightly.

"You want to leave?" Moriarty said in a deep voice. He pulled John away from his chest hard by his hair. The blond tried not to yell out in pain as that had always made his dad inflict more.

"N- no," John said.

"Do you know what kinds of things are out there?" Moriarty said standing up and forcing John up by the hair. "It's dangerous out there!" He flung John on to the bed and turned to pace around the room. "There are dangerous people out there that could hurt you," Moriarty explained. John sat on his bed with his back against the wall; his 'dad' got on to the blonde's bed and grabbed his arms painfully hard pushing him harder against the wall. "John," He said. He usually said Johnny-boy but when he said John it meant he was serious. "You're so fragile and small. That's why I brought you here, if I hadn't you would have been killed by the people that kill your mother and sister."

"But I was a baby then," John argued. Moriarty's face became angry and he pulled John forward and then back against the wall. John yelled out in pain as his head smacked the wall.

"I've had enough of this John, you are not leaving and that is final," Moriarty said sternly. He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips. John broke out in to tears and wrapped his arms around Moriarty's waist crying in to his stomach.

"I'm sorry," John said, his words muffles because his face was pressed hard against his dad's stomach. Moriarty petted John's head. After a few moments he moved John to sit on the bed and leaned down to his level.

"I just want to keep you safe."

"I know dad," John said hugging Moriarty. Moriarty then left the tower promising to come back in a few days.

**So, what do you think? Review Please! I said please….. **

**Also, sorry for bad grammar, I have no beta reader…..**


	2. The horse and the pan

***Screams happily* Oh, I am just so happy with my new beta reader Kirby77DP77. Oh, what a wonderful person you are! So thank you! Trust me people, without Kirby this chapter would have annoyed you! By the way, did I mention I have a beta reader now?**

**Lanshannarra – Thanks! I'm so glad I made Moriarty creepy (it's kinda what I was going for ;))**

**IAmTheMedusa – Yes I did :) I wanted Moriarty to be extra evil and mean! Idk why, I just thought it make the fic more interesting. ;)**

**TheScienceODeduction – O.O Martin Freeman with long hair! LOL! That would be priceless! XD**

**The Science Of Seduction – THANKS! I'm glad it's as good as Sherpunzel! :D**

**Kirby77DP77 – Thanks, I'm actually surprised no one has tried this idea… ;)**

**And here is MORE:**

Sherlock got home feeling very wide awake at five in the morning. Only one thing was on his mind and that was the tower of the mansion. 'Who or What is up there?' he wondered.

The consulting detective texted Lestrade. The dark haired man had to give the DI something. He didn't want Lestrade to find that mansion, since Sherlock wanted to examine the tower himself. Sherlock needed to keep Lestrade distracted and away from the mansion. The DI might lose his reliance in the consultant if the killer was not found or if Lestrade didn't get to make an effort of trying to find the killer. Therefor Sherlock knew what was the best thing to do in order to keep Lestrade happy. So he texted Lestrade the following message:

_Chased murderer.  
>He got away.<br>Suggest searching the perimeter of the forest.  
>SH<em>

Lestrade was disappointed in the text he received while he sat in his office. The killer had gotten away. The DI decided not to complain about it too much. At least Sherlock had had tried to catch the killer, although it was still annoying that the consultant always went off to chase criminals without letting the police know. The DI ordered his men (and Sally) to search the perimeter of the forest for when the killer came out. Lestrade wouldn't risk getting his men lost in the forest so perimeter was best.

The consulting detective fell on to his sofa and slapped a few nicotine patches on to his arm to help him think. Sherlock missed smoking; cigarettes made the nicotine feel like it was getting in to his body quicker. None the less, it was Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days so, he resorted to patches. The patches didn't get the nicotine in quick enough so the addict used a few patches, settling for quantity instead of quality.

Thoughts of that tower came back to him. The detective wanted so badly to go to the mansion and to see the insides of that tower. He wasn't sure why that mansion was so interesting. Maybe it was because it was so random, it was just out deep in a forest for no reason. No, there's always a reason and that's what made him so curious. And that man he saw, who was he? That man killed the murderer that Sherlock was trying to catch, which the detective could care less about at that point. As fun as it was to chase that killer, this new one was far more interesting. And those words the new killer spoke made that made the vine come down. Was there someone up there to throw the vine down? Who was it? What's the purpose of it all? Why would someone be up there? Why in the middle of the forest?

Questions rattled Sherlock's brain. He couldn't stand it any longer; he had to know what was up there and why. An hour had passed by without his notice and he ran out the door feeling as though he had wasted enough time.

It was a long walk, and Sherlock was impatient to get there, so he decided he needed transportation. Since no car could take him -being that there were no roads- he had to take something else.

:) :) :)

Sherlock mounted a white horse and took its reins.

"Have you ever done this before?" The old man that sold him the horse asked. Sherlock only smiled and took off at full speed. He thought about taking a motorcycle but he had no license, (not that that mattered to Sherlock with his law breaking ways and besides the detective never took the time to learn how to drive) and a regular bike would be of no use, the curly hair man never took the time to learn how to ride one. His parents did force him to learn how to ride a horse when he was younger, so taking a horse seemed like the best idea to shorten his journey to the mansion.

The sun was already coming up but the forest was still dim. The tall trees shaded the detective and his trusty white steed. Sherlock couldn't help but let his mind wonder, riding horses weren't much fun, besides the horse did most the work. The dark haired man's face scrunched up a litte at the feel of the wind and the trees' leaves hitting his face. He thought of the mansion, of the tower, and of all of the events that happened so many hours ago. The horse jumped over a log surprising Sherlock and bringing him out of his thoughts for a moment.

The consulting detective wondered if the man that had killed the murder he was chasing, was still there. If he was, what then? Sherlock figured he might be killed if the man was still there but this didn't stop him. He had to see, he had to know. The detective was determined and would let nothing stop him.

A branch hit the dark haired man in the face. He was snapped out of his thoughts once again. 'Okay, so the horse doesn't do all the work,' he thought.

:) :) :)

John woke to the sound of birds chirping. The sun's rays shined through the window, creeping steadily across John's bed and onto his face. Sitting up and yawning, the steady man looked out of the portal to another world, the window, and smiled at the sunny day that had risen with him.

The blond got out of bed and set off doing his normal routine. He made his bed, made some toast and tea, and then took a shower. John then cleaned a little and went off to read. He enjoyed reading, but mostly because it was one of the only things he could do, besides clean and walk around in circles. His dad had given him some puzzles and cards, but after a few years they got boring. However, his father brought a new book to him whenever he asked. The sheltered blonde's favorite books were lord of the rings and the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, but ever since John was 18 years old he had dreamed to one day be able to help people, and he wanted to be a doctor; therefore, he started reading medical types of books.

Half the day had passed by and John had managed to read quite a few books however at the moment he was back to reading the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy while pacing the room.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine!" A voice from the window said making John jump at the broken silence. The doctor wannabe was surprised his dad was back so soon. Maybe he had forgotten something. He threw out the vine for his dad to climb up and walked to the book shelf to put the book away.

:) :) :)

Sherlock jumped off his horse and tied the reins on to a tree. He walked around the old looking mansion. The mansion had a steeply pitched roof of irregular shape with dominant front-facing gable, the shingles were black and some were missing (probably from rough storms). The mansion had a full-width asymmetrical porch and a small half circled shaped balcony on the top floor. In all there were two floor, plus an attic (which the balcony was connected to), and the tower (which stood twice as high as the mansion itself).

The mansion was of Victorian style and the dark haired man found it to be quite interesting. It was in good shape and by the way it stood and how the grass stood around it, the curious man could tell this place was at the very least a hundred years old, most likely more. There was no way in the tower through the outside so he made his way in through the front door.

The mansion was large and there were quite a few rooms. There were many bedrooms upstairs; most of them had bathrooms connected to them. The larger of the rooms was decorated like most of the others. It had a queen sized bed, a wardrobe, bedside tables, and a vanity table. Some of the rooms were for children, being that there were smaller beds in those rooms along with old fashion toys, like dolls and little wooden trains.

Down stairs there was a kitchen, sitting room, dining room, and even a separate room with all sorts of instruments. Sherlock went to the main room where the front door stood. Across the room from the front door was an old looking door much like the others. The detective opened it only to find it blocked off by a brick wall. There was no way up into the tower outside or in any of the rooms inside. This door was blocked, which brought Sherlock to the conclusion that this was the way up, unless.

The curious consultant ran up two flights of stairs in order to get to the attic. Perhaps there was a way in to the tower through the attic. Sherlock open the door leading to the attic on to find another brick wall in his path. This wall was like the other one down stairs, and Sherlock couldn't help but wonder why the brick walls were much newer than the mansion itself. The brick walls probably had something to do with what or who was in that tower. He sighed in disappointment and went back down stairs. The dark haired man wondered if he could just break the brick wall down. He searched the house and to his surprise found nothing sturdy enough to do the job, not even a shovel.

He walked outside and looked up shading his eyes from the sun. The tower was tall and too dangerous to climb. There was only on option left and Sherlock wasn't sure if it would even work.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine!" Sherlock called out and sure enough the vine was dropped. He smiled in success and climbed.

:) :) :)

John sat on his bed watching the window waiting for his dad, but it was taking him a little longer to climb than usual. Finally, his dad was half way through the window when John realized it wasn't his dad. Cursing under his breath, he quickly got up and ran to the kitchen to look for a weapon for this person could be dangerous.

Sherlock finally got inside and looked around. It was a large room. There was a bed to the right near the window and on the far side of the room was table with two chairs and a door way. There was also a book case sat beside a comfy looking chair to his left. There was another door to the far right.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked walking to the door to the far right. He opened it to find a medium sized bathroom with baby blue walls complete with a white porcelain bathtub, toilet and sink. Then, he felt something hit him in the head and he was out like a light.

John bounced a little in triumph. He twirled the pan in his hand and kissed it as if it were his new best friend. The blond looked down at the man he had just knocked out with his trusty pan. The man was tall, dark brown hair, and sort of pale. It was nothing like the blond had expected. The way his dad described people from the outside world was much different. The doctor wannabe expected sharp teeth, claws, and weren't outsiders supposed to be bigger? This one was taller but also skinny. He got on his knees and poked the unconscious body with the pan a little. Satisfied that the man wasn't getting up anytime soon, he pushed him on to his back.

John couldn't help notice the man's nice looking clothes, black pants, a white button up shirt, and nice black shoes. The unconscious man looked so well dress. The blond always imagined the outsiders to wear torn up ugly clothes. John checked the dark haired man's teeth, they weren't sharp. He smelled the pale man and found that the he didn't smell bad. The stranger actually smelled good, kind of like tobacco, roses, and some other things John couldn't identify.

The stranger looked so peaceful and almost beautiful. John ran a hand over the pale man's warm face and it caused the stranger to stir a little. John jumped up quickly feeling as though this had to be a trick. People from the outside world were dangerous and there was no way they could be so good looking and smell so good. John had to tie the stranger up before he woke.

"Hello?" John asked poking at the man he had just tied up to a chair. The man opened his eyes and looked up at the blond. "Oh, um, hi." John smiled but then remembered he wanted to act tough so he put on a serious face. "Why are you here?" He asked sternly. Sherlock looked around at his surroundings. He was tied up and a short blond man was standing in from of him clutching a pan for dear life.

"I came here to meet you," Sherlock said sincerely. The detective looked up and down at the blond, learning all he could. The dark haired man couldn't help but smile a little at the other man's appearance. The blond wore an oatmeal-colored jumper, jeans, and no shoes.

"Why?" John asked feeling a little self-conscious from the other man's staring.

"I was curious," Sherlock answered with a smirk making John feel uneasy.

"Curiosity killed the cat you know," The blond said in a voice that was meant to make Sherlock feel inferior, it didn't work.

"Well, I'm not a cat," Sherlock said sternly making John smile.

"Who are you?" The jumper wearing man said relaxing a little and lowering his pan a bit.

"Sherlock Holmes, um, would you mind untying me so we can have a proper greeting?" The dark haired man asked. He was loving every moment of this meeting but felt it would be even more fun if he wasn't tied down.

"How do I know you're not going try and kill me?" John said raising his pan defensively.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked casually trying to let the other man know that that wasn't even on his mind.

"I don't know," John said thinking about all the times his dad told him about the dangerous people out there. "Alright, I'll untie you but if you try anything," John showed Sherlock the pan in his hand, "I'll hit you again."

"Okay," Sherlock said. The blond untied the other and stepped a few feet away with the pan raised a little. The man got up and stretched his limbs. "So, what's your name?"

"John," he answered. Sherlock didn't even bother to ask about the last name.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing hiding away in this tower?" Sherlock asked walking over to the bookshelf and scanning the books.

"None of your business," John said defensively. 'Why is this man asking so many questions?' John wondered. Sherlock noticed the large amount of medical books on the shelf. He picked one out, it was a medical dictionary, and turned to a random page.

"What is a narcotic?" Sherlock asked. John smiled; he had read and memorized all of those books, the doctor wannabe felt proud to be able to answer that question so easily.

"It is a drug that causes insensibility or stupor. A narcotic induces narcosis; it's from the Greek word 'narke' meaning 'numbness or torpor.'" John answered proudly. It was Sherlock turn to smile.

"You've been up here a long time. You've memorized these books. I could use someone like you as an assistant," Sherlock said putting the book away.

"Assistant for what?" John asked.

"I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world. I been in need for an assistant and a flatmate and since you don't seem very busy I think you would be good for the job," Sherlock explained walking toward John.

"S-sorry, but," He said backing away. "Why are you doing this? This is so random and-" Sherlock took the pan out of John's hand and the blond backed in to the wall. "Why are you asking me to be your assistant and to come live with you? We've only just met and we nothing about each other." Sherlock's smile grew wider.

"I know you're 27 years old, you've spent your whole life in this tower, you have no other family besides a father whom visits you every now and again. He gives you what you need such as supplies but he's also abusive. You're a neat freak and have a passion for wanting to help people. You can play the clarinet but I highly doubt you're good at it. Oh, and you're also a virgin, that's enough to be going on now don't you think?" John was stunned.

"How do you know I'm a virgin?" John asked although the answer was obvious but his question was really more of a defense than an actual question but Sherlock still answered.

"You've lived in this tower your whole life; of course you're a virgin." John ignored that and went on to his next thought.

"That… was amazing," John said. Sherlock was frozen in place by that remark.

"Do you think so?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Of course it was, it was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary," John answered in amazement.

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." John smiled. "So, how about it then?"

"What?"

"Will you be my assistant?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Well, I can't," John said walking over to his bed then sat down. "I'm not allowed to leave the tower." The blond sunk his face in his hands.

"Why not?"

"My dad won't let me leave." Sherlock sighed loudly. He was annoyed. 'This man is 27 years old for fuck's sake!'

"John," Sherlock said sitting beside the blond. "I think you're old enough to make your own decisions." John looked up at Sherlock and then after a moment he stood up.

"I know," John said raising his arms and then let them fall to his sides. He sighed. "Could you just give me a few days to think about it?" He asked hopefully.

"I suppose so," Sherlock said standing up knowing that this would be the best answer he would get for now. "I'll be back in three days' time and I want a straight answer by then."

"Oh, thank you!" John exclaimed and hugged the taller man. Sherlock stiffened; he hadn't been hugged since he was a child. John didn't seem to mind his stiffness he was just so happy that he might have a chance to get out of the tower. Sherlock was soon released but his cheeks were a bit red and John couldn't help but giggle a little and Sherlock refused to acknowledge that the shorter man giggled at all. Sherlock walked toward the window after the hug and was about to climb down. "Wait! Couldn't you stay for a while?"

"No," Sherlock said with a smile. "I want you to start thinking of your choice in going with me straight away." He knew John wanted to spend time with him being that the blond was actually really lonely and Sherlock had no objections to taking some time out of his day to examine an isolated man but if he left now it would make John want to leave the tower even more than before.

He climbed down the tower with the man above watching his every move. As Sherlock mounted his horse and galloped off he heard John yell out "See you soon!"

**You like? Let me know! And review! **


	3. Big Mistake!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock**

**Once again, I am completely amazed by Kirby77DP77's amazing betaing. I cannot tell you happy I am XD So, thanks Kirby!**

**Anyway, on with the chapter and I responded to your reviews at the end ;) **

It was another bright and sunny day and John could not believe he had met that strange man, Sherlock. Like every day, he got up, made his bed, made some toast and tea, and then took a shower. John then cleaned a little. He swept the floor, under his bed, and the corners of the ceiling where cobwebs often developed. John always had to pull his bed away from the corner and in front of the window to clean that corner of the tower thoroughly. The blond liked that his bed was in the corner closest to the window, the sun would always shine in his face waking him up for the good part of the morning. He moved on to wipe down the bathroom which was as small as a closet but held all the necessary things a bathroom should. Across from the bathroom, he made his way to the table and chairs which he wiped down with a cleaning rag. Then off to the kitchen which was on the far left corner from the window next to the table and chairs. The kitchen really didn't need any cleaning for John only used it to make tea, toast, or just to grab something out of the fridge.

He then went off to read satisfied that the tower was clean enough to his liking. But when sat down with one of his medical books he simply couldn't sit still long enough to read a sentence of it. He got up and paced about the room, agitated, and unable to think about anything but Sherlock.

Sherlock was so interesting and some sort of genius. John could not help but like the stranger, even if he was a bit strange. The demeanor of the dark haired man said 'pompous' but then again he seemed sort of nice… well, a bit at least. John flopped on to his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Every thought of Sherlock was exciting, scary, and dare he say it… arousing. The blond turned to his side violently. That strange man was strikingly attractive with those piercing blue eyes, tall lanky figure, and pasty complexion. He violently turned to his other side as if to leave his lustful thoughts on the other side of the bed.

John stared at the window. He wondered if he could leave, after all, what was holding him back? Scratch that, he already knew what it was, it was fear. He feared the unknown, the danger, and the excitement? He twisted to his other side in frustration. Yes, it would be exciting, danger was exciting, and he knew he would have nothing to fear with that handsome devil by his side. Once again John twisted violently to his side at the thought of the handsome stranger, only this time he fell off the bed. The agitated man quickly stood up, brushed himself off, and walked toward the kitchen trying to pretend that that did not just happen.

He got out some bread and made his way to the window where he sat as he started tearing the bread to pieces. Suddenly, a beautiful blue bird flew in to his hand and began eating the bits of bread from he held.

So, what was it that was holding him back from leaving the tower? It was apparent that adventure and danger were much too appealing to be the problem. John's dad was next on his list. Most certainly it was his overprotective abusive dad that stood in his way. If Jim knew about the stranger what would he do? If John's dad even knew the blond was thinking about freedom, what would happen?

"What if I just left?" John said to the bird. "What do you think Sarah?" The blue bird looked up at him and then continued eating. "Oh, I know you would be lonely without me, but perhaps you could come with me," He said petting the bird's soft feathers. The bird, Sarah, had been John's friend for a few years now and had taken a liking to him, although most of the likening was because he fed her. "Sherlock is nice; I think you'd like him." At that statement Sarah few off as if John having someone else in his life was unacceptable. John dropped the rest of the bread out the window and retreated back inside the tower only to pace the room the rest of the day trying to decide his fate.

XD ;) :)

Sherlock returned his horse to the man he bought it from. The man had a large barn and quite a few horses and so, he paid the man to look after the horse he'd bought. The man, whom had the appearance of a cowboy Santa Clause with his fat, short appearance, and large puffy beard, was all too happy to look after Sherlock's horse for money. It wasn't every day the santa looking man got to sell a horse and then got paid to look after it; no one used horses much anymore. Sherlock told the man he would be back in a few days for the swift creature and this only made the man happier. The detective's words were like a promise that he'd be back with money.

He made his way home where he did nothing but think of the man in the tower. John was different, interesting even. He was slightly smarter that the average person and all the knowledge the wannabe doctor had would be useful on cases. The blond was smart, and Sherlock wouldn't have an assistant any other way. The only thing that frustrated the dark haired man was waiting. _Is it really so hard to choose to leave a tower _he thought.

_Perhaps the choice had something to do with John's father_. In any case, Sherlock was restless. He tried to occupy himself with experiments, his violin, and reading up on bees; but nothing could keep him occupied for long. Every few minutes Sherlock would think about his potential flatmate.

But why was he thinking so much about it. Sure there was no one like John that he had ever met, but then again no one he had ever met was isolated their entire life. Sherlock wondered if that was the reason he felt an attraction to the blond. "Attraction? John was certainly not attractive, was he?" Sherlock dropped his scalpel on to the kitchen table (he had been dissecting a frog for fun). The lanky man paced the room in frustration.

"That's absurd!" He said loudly toward the skull on the mantle. The consulting detective had never felt anything for anyone before in his life. Sure, he had a fling with that woman named Irene Adler but it was strictly sex, stealing, and all around fun. Besides, he was a hormonal teenager then. Sherlock was an adult now, and had left any desires for another person behind him. John was just interesting, likeable, and compliant; nothing more. The consultant flopped on to the sofa and stared at the ceiling and immediately wondered what John was thinking.

"Dammit!" Sherlock scolded himself. "Why is he so interesting? Why is he so likeable? Why can't I stop thinking about him?" All these questions were directed to the skull that stayed silent on the mantle. Sherlock looked at it as if waiting for an answer. "If I would have asked John, I'm sure he would have answered," he told the skull.

Sherlock lay on the sofa. Maybe this was just a phase, after all, nothing kept his interest long. His entire life was full of interesting temporary phases and nothing else. Still, John would be useful, and he wasn't an eye sore. In fact, the entire time Sherlock was at the tower he couldn't help but take mental pictures of his potential flatmate. John was short, blond, and had puppy dog eyes. He was sort of cute in a way, not that Sherlock thought he was cute, but according to society Sherlock was sure John would be considered cute.

The detective shot up off the sofa shaking a little in fear of what he had just thought. Cute, did he really find John to be cute. Surely he meant the definition of cute as affectedly or superficially clever not attractive in a pretty or endearing way, aka sexually attractive. Sherlock grabbed his coat and flung himself out the door.

He needed a distraction, or did he? Perhaps while John was on his mind he should just use it to his advantage. The detective ran out the door and headed to Scotland Yard determined to find where John came from.

:) :) :P

John watched the sun go down wondering if Sherlock was watching it too. Perhaps, if he did leave with the mad man, they would watch the sun set together. The blond blushed a little at the thought of the two watching the sun set and then kissing. It was all so romantic and John wasn't sure what to think of himself, what would his dad say?

He turned away from the window and lay on his bed with his medical dictionary, the very one Sherlock had held. The wannabe doctor opened it up and looked through it, he had already memorized it like the others but Sherlock had touched this one. John blushed again and quickly tossed the book on the floor.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine," A voice called. Maybe it was Sherlock; after all, John's dad wouldn't be back for another day or two. He ran to the window and looked out not thinking about what he was about to say. His heart raced with anticipation as he ran toward the window and he knew that he most certainly say yes to Sherlock. John didn't care about the consequences anymore, he desired freedom.

"Sherlock?" He called out as he threw the vine and looked at who was down there. His blood ran cold and his face paled. It was not his wayward rescuer but his dad that stood below. John ran to his bed, then the bathroom, then the kitchen, and all over the place. Had his dad heard him yell out Sherlock's name? What would happen if he did hear? Jim climbed in through the window and held a big smile on his face.

"I know I'm back early but I had some free time on my hands," He said setting a basket of food on the kitchen table. John relaxed and let out a long breath of relief. It seemed that his dad hadn't heard him after all. "Come give me a hug," Jim said happily. John smiled at his dad's good mood, walked to him and they hugged. Jim's hug was extra tight but the blond didn't mind, he was too busy being relieved that his dad didn't hear him, or so he thought.

"Who's Sherlock?" Jim asked hugging John even tighter, almost cutting off his air. Jim knew Sherlock the consulting detective and wondered if it was him. Anger surged through the consulting criminal. John tensed and froze in place speechless. Fear spread over the blond like wild fire. "Well?" Jim asked letting the hug go and looking John in the eyes intently.

"I- uh, he- well, um," John stuttered still unable to move. The psychopath placed his hands on his son's shoulders and let a smile cross over his face. The blond's fear had always made Jim smile no matter what mood he was in. John was so cute when scared.

"Johnny, you can tell me. I won't be mad," Jim said reassuringly but John wasn't quite convinced.

"Well, Sherlock is a, um, rabbit," John lied. It was a terrible lie too, but he was too scared to tell the truth. Jim frowned.

"A rabbit?" Jim asked disappointedly and back handed John across the face sending the blond to the floor. "Honestly John, that is the worst lie I've ever heard you come up with," He said with an angry look on his face although his voice was cheerful. "Now, who is Sherlock?" The psycho asked letting the cheerfulness slip from his voice.

"He- he- he-" John tried to speak but fear made it hard to do so. His cheek was red and tears started to appear in the corner of his eyes from the pain. The blond ignored the pain and kept his eyes focused on his dad.

"He- he- he-" Jim repeated John's words. "I hate that stuttering nonsense John, it's quite off putting." The psychopath grabbed john's hair and dragged him across the floor to a chair. John yelped in pain and grabbed at his dad's fist that pulled his hair. Jim grabbed the helpless man's jumper and pulled him up on to the chair. "I will not ask again young man, you give me a straight answer," the psycho said in an angry father like tone. A few tears made their way along John's cheeks.

"He came here yesterday and he knew th-the," Jim leaned over the fearful blond and grabbed his throat threateningly. "He knew the words," John stared to sob. "I thought it was you so I let down the vine without thinking and he came up." The psycho's grip tightened on the blond's neck.

"What did he want?" Jim asked sternly still full of anger.

"I don't know, he just asked me questions about how long I'd been here and-" John flinched at the hand Jim raised to silence him. The psycho stood up and stared down at the quivering man in the chair.

"What did he look like?" Jim asked making sure it was Sherlock Holmes that had visited

"He was tall, with black hair, and he was kind of pale," John said wiping his tears away looking up at his dad who was thinking deeply on the subject at hand.

"Sherlock Holmes," Jim said with a smile. He looked at John happily and reached out to the blond. John flinched away but that didn't stop Jim from grabbing his hand and pulling him up in to a hug. John was held tightly to Jim's chest, his hair was being petted. The psycho loved to pet his son's soft blond hair while thinking. "You let down that vine for him again, and I won't be so nice next time I visit." John shuddered in his dad's arms and then watched him leave.

Jim Moriarty was very angry with his 'son', but more so at Sherlock. How could his arch-nemesis do this to him? Sure, the consulting detective wasn't aware of the consulting criminal quite yet but this was just upsetting. Moriarty had worked hard caring for his pet and he wasn't about to share with Sherlock.

Jim got on his camouflage motorcycle that he used to get through the forest with. Sure, he could use other means of transportation like a helicopter, horse, bike, or simply walking. But motorcycles were so much fun and it was the best way to get through the forest without the notice of others.

The consulting criminal decided not to worry about this new Sherlock problem. He put on his camouflage helmet and started the motorcycle's engine. Moriarty was positive that John would follow orders and not let Sherlock in the tower, in which case Sherlock would become frustrated and bored and never come back to the tower. Of course, Jim also wouldn't hesitate to kill Sherlock if worst came to shove because, hey, when worst comes to shove, why not shove the cause of the worst out the window?"

:O XD O.O

Sherlock sat in Lestrade's office impatiently for ten minutes till he had had enough boredness. The DI finally walked in with coffee in hand; half an hour after Sherlock had arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock easily deduced the DI's appearance which revealed that he'd been working since yesterday without sleep. Clothes were crumped, eyes tired, and his hand seemed permanently attached to his coffee mug.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked tiredly.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked typing away on the DI's laptop.

"Is that my computer?" The tired man asked little irritated.

"Yes, I needed to update my website and my computer is as home," The detective said not even looking up at the angry DI. The dark haired man was actually going through the files of the computer.

"So, you thought you'd help yourself to mine?" Lestrade asked impatiently snatching the laptop away. Sherlock dropped his hands down from the now nonexistent laptop and looked up at Lestrade. "I don't have any cases for you today, I'm still busy trying to hunt down that killer, that you lost," Lestrade said tiredly. Sherlock ignored the exhausted man's statement and went on with what he felt was more important at the moment.

"I need your files on missing children from about 23 to 30 years ago," Sherlock said casually.

"What for?" Lestrade asked surprised that his annoying genius would even show a slight interest in missing persons much less children. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the DI's wide eyed expression.

"I'm bored and need to kill time," The consulting detective answered with a straight face. Lestrade looked for signs in Sherlock's face to show that maybe there was something more to this. There was nothing and since the DI was tired he decided to dismiss his suspicions altogether.

"The basement is full of files of missing persons and such, just go down there and a woman named Dusty will help you find your way around," Lestrade said tiredly and took a gulp of his coffee as Sherlock swooped out of the room without another word.

**Thanks for the reviews and I expect more O.O  
>Next chapter – Will John let down the vine for Sherlock?<strong>

**Smimjin – Thanks! ;D**

**Kirby77DP77 – LOL! I thought that might be funny. **

**xLouise – Thanks, Sherlock is dashing ;)**

**Tardis-221B – OMG! John is so darn CUTE!**

**The Science Of Seduction – Thanks! ;) Possibly… oh noes! Poor Moriarty!**

**The Oddness – Thanks, really? Cool! I agree that John make a better Rapunzel ;) I love his hair! Lol!**

**Lanshannarra – Thanks! XD**

**Special Patrol Group - Thanks! XP**


	4. Leaving!

**Sorry this took so long…. I'll try to get the next one up sooner ;)  
>Thanks to my beta reader Kirby77DP77, if not for your betaing my fic would have been horribly written :)<br>Seriously, this chapter would have been shorter, less descriptive, and a little out of character without Kirby! XD**

Sherlock opened the heavy grey door to the gloomy, dank basement. He descended the creaky narrow stairs, and headed toward the light at the end of the tunnel. An average sized female of about 30 years old sat behind a desk. The only light in the room was from her desk lamp and laptop. The woman had dark sandy hair, but it was almost brown, with emerald eyes that hid behind thin reading glasses. She glanced at Sherlock then back down at her laptop and kept typing at lightning speed pace.

The consulting detective deduced everything about her before he even reached her desk. She was single, not married and not dating. There was no ring or jewelry on her and no pictures on her desk so, no friends, family, nor relationship in her life. There was no trace of pet hair on her so, no pets as well, although there was a small trace of green and blue feathers hidden in her hair. She has two pet birds most likely parakeets judging by the colors. Her hands were clean and nails manicured and from her amazingly fast typing skills it was apparent that she spent most of her time on the computer and away from physical work. Sherlock's conclusion to all these deductions would be that he was dealing with a lonely spinster with no relations, two pet birds, a passion for writing, and for the 10 years of working here, she hardly ever leaves.

"Dusty, I presume," The consulting detective acquired after her name. She motioned with the wave of her hand for her guest to sit. Sherlock sat feeling as though it would be a while before she would stop typing.

"Sherlock Holmes," Dusty said in recognition, still typing away at her laptop after five full minutes of silence. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed tiresomely, not only was he dealing with a lonely spinster but a lonely American spinster. Americans and lonely people alike talk too much and mixing the two could only mean suffering through hours of meaningless chitchat, but surprisingly she didn't seem eager to talk, almost like his presence was unwelcome in every way. Perhaps this would be quick and painless.

"Lestrade told you I was coming," The detective said in a business like voice. For some reason, with the dimly lit room and the unhappy woman behind her desk, Sherlock felt like he was in one of those ridiculous mobster movies Lestrade often talked about. Any moment now the Dusty would whip out a gun and shoot Holmes in the head. She shut her laptop and gave her guest her full attention.

"What can I do for the great Sherlock Holmes?" The file keeper knew a lot about the consulting detective. For some reason, the police of Scotland Yard felt it necessary to come down to the basement to complain to the lonely woman, and Dusty found it quite annoying to have to listen to all the complaints, but sometimes she would welcome the musings of entertaining information . Sally Donavan often had the most interesting stuff to say between her love affair with Anderson and her annoyance with Sherlock Holmes.

"I need the files on missing children from about 23 to 30 years ago," Sherlock said, he knew John was 27 years old but it didn't hurt to be sure by looking over a wide range of years.

"That is quite a lot of files, Mr. Holmes. That's about 500 cases per year but I can narrow it down if you are looking for the unsolved ones," She said crossing her arms unhappily. Dusty never enjoyed the presents of others, that's why she took this job in the first place, the alone time at this job was too compelling to give up.

"Narrow it down?" Sherlock asked, confused about what she meant.

"I've been working here for ten years, and out of boredom I memorized all the files here," she explained. "The more information you give me the more I can narrow down which file you'll need." The detective found this to be helpful and it would certainly take less time to find the right file, but he was unsure about depending on her for help. He didn't know how reliable she was, but he honestly didn't want to take the time to get to know this woman and find out so, to his dismay he accepted her knowledge and help.

After giving Dusty John's name, description, and age, she was able to narrow it down to a few files. Sherlock looked through all of them trying to detect some sign that John was in one of these data folders. One file was about a kidnapped baby named John with blond hair, but after careful examination of the baby's photo, Sherlock knew the blubbering infant was not John. He went through the others and finally came to the last folder, the last hope of finding John's past.

When he opened up the file, the detective found several pictures of a crime. A man, woman, and child had been shot in their flat, and the baby was not present at the scene and presumed missing. The last name of the family was Watson. He flipped through the pictures in the file that had been acquired from around the flat (family pictures and such) till he came across a picture of a baby. The infant was named John H. Watson, and the detective studied the picture. The baby had the same sandy blond hair color as John, the same dark blue tint color of eyes that sparked in the light and the same caring smile with dimples on either cheek on his face when he looked at someone, just like John. The infant's hands held a rattle as if to playfully hit the object taking his picture reminding Sherlock of the way John held that pan to defend himself the first time they met. This was the boy from the tower, no doubt about it.

Looking through the case, Sherlock found it to be quite unsettling. From the files information and photos the consulting detective mapped out what had happened. The man, Mr. Watson, was a common drug dealer of marijuana and cocaine. He had done something wrong, theft of more than half his earnings from his boss probably, and was packing his family up to escape before his boss found out. Half way through packing three men minimal (two to keep hold of the Watsons and one being the boss most likely) entered and killed Mr. and Mrs. Watson and then five year old, Harriet Watson. After the killings, the murderer took the baby, but why? Sherlock couldn't imagine what a drug lord criminal would want with a baby. Whoever the criminal was, it was apparent that he was posing as John's dad. The tall man stood up and ran up the stairs and out of the basement, giving the briefest of chances for Dusty to complain about him taking the file with him.

:) :) :)

It was the middle of the day, and John had done nothing but pace around the tower. He tried to eat, but he only picked at his food, and he tried to settle in his comfy chair and read, but he was restless with anxiety. Nothing was worth doing right now, not with what the blond had on his mind. Sherlock was all he could think about, and he felt sad knowing that he couldn't let the strange man into the tower. The thought of just letting Sherlock in had crossed the short man's mind but he was unsure of himself.

He was unsure mostly because of the fear he had of his father. Anything and everything John did was looked down upon, Moriarty didn't even like his son's fixation on wanting to be a doctor. Often, when he came to the tower he would bring food as usual and stay for hours making John lay with him on the bed as he stroked his son's soft sandy hair saying it helped him think. Moments like that made the wannabe doctor feel loved by his father but once the moment was over Jim would push John on to the floor and leave with a big smile on his face as if he had just thought of something clever. Sometimes Jim would come to the tower angry, with no food, he would pace around the tower mumbling about incompetence and things John didn't understand. Often, John tried to keep his distance in moods like these but it never saved him from a beating or any sort of ill-treatment, although Jim would come back a few days later with extra food and apologies. _Maybe he does care _John thought _he just has his own way of showing it. _Jim seemed to rely on his son for support during his need to think or be angry and John almost felt responsible for his dad's well-being. He felt that maybe his guardian needed him more than he needed his guardian.

"Child, oh child, with hair so fine, look out the window, throw me the vine!" A voice called out from outside the tower causing John to freeze in place. He ran to the window and peaked out of it to see Sherlock. The blond let out a sigh of relief that it was not his needy parent but still, this was dreadfully bad. John leaned back against the wall next to the window. "John?" The voice called out after a minute passed. John clasped his hands around his mouth and closed his eyes hoping this would help him stay silent. "John, I know you're up there!"

"How?" John called back and then in realization of what he had just done, he threw his hands back over his mouth to shut himself up. From down below Sherlock smirked at John's reaction. He had seen John peak out from the tower, that's how he knew, but he wasn't sure why the shorter man wouldn't let him up. Had Sherlock done something wrong? Was he late? Had John chosen to stay in the tower?

"Can I come up?" Sherlock asked unsure of his own presents here. The blond stood up and leaned his head out the window.

"No, go away!" He yelled sternly and retreating back in to the tower. He faced away from the window and crossed his arms as if that was the end of it. John stood with a stern look on his face, but he couldn't help but feel sad. He was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. _I want to stay here with my father, the only one who loves and cares for me, the only one I love and care for._ But in the back of his mind and in his aching heart he knew that he loved the man outside his tower.

"Why can't I come up?" The tall figure below called up desperately. John was unresponsive for the longest time and Sherlock wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he came too soon, maybe John didn't want to come with him after all. Sherlock began to think that had had possibly offended John, but how? John huffed in frustration, walked back to the window, and leaned his head out the window, yet again.

The blond said truthfully, "I can't say." He was sure his dad would be pissed if he told the man below the truth, if Jim found out there would surely be a beating involved. John didn't want to enrage his father, his caring, yet abusive dad. For once in the isolated man's life, his heart felt like it was splitting in two. One half of his heart went to the man that had always been there for him and the other half was to the man that randomly showed up on day with promises of taking John away from the tower.

"Why not? What's going on?" Sherlock asked with concern and irritation. Last time the detective had been here John was eager for interaction. Why was the doctor wannabe pushing Sherlock away?

John yelled in frustration, "Go away!" He tried his best to sound persistent and confident. "Go away Sherlock! I don't want you to bother me any longer; I don't want you to be here!" The blond wiped a tear away from his cheek but more spilled over from his eyes. It hurt to have to tell his only friend –he thought of Sherlock as a friend- to go away.

"But John!" Sherlock called franticly.

"Go away!" John screamed and fled from the window and fell onto his bed. Everything was silent for the next five minutes and it felt like the longest five minutes the two men had ever had to get through.

"John," Sherlock called softly. "At least answer me this. Have you come to a decision?" The man in the tower stayed silent. "Do you want to be my flatmate, my assistant, my friend?" John rubbed his tears away with his jumper and looked toward the window.

Below, Sherlock stared up at the window willing John to come and talk to him. The detective knew that he had to get John out of the tower; after all, he was still a kidnap victim. But even with that knowledge, that fact that John was telling him to go away made Sherlock feel rejected. People usually did reject Sherlock in every way which he never minded, but somehow this was different, he actually _felt_ rejected and it actually hurt a little. He wanted John to come out of the tower for the dark haired man, willingly. He felt as though John didn't want him but before he did, didn't he? So what had changed?

"Sherlock," John said calmly looking out the window. Sherlock's head snapped up to see John's small figure above. "I do but-"

"But what?" Sherlock asked sternly; John didn't answer. "You say I can't come up, right?" The detective inquired.

"Yes," John answered sadly.

"Then come down here," Sherlock demanded. John was taken aback. Could he really do that? His dad said never to leave the tower because it was dangerous, but he would be safe with Sherlock, so it would be okay, right? The blond huffed in frustration, loud enough for the man below to hear. He flopped on his bed. _No, I can't…_

Five more minutes past until Sherlock thought of something. He wasn't sure if this plan would work but it was worth a shot.

"John," He said. Silence. "Oh, John," Sherlock called out. More silence. "With hair so fine." John got up suddenly, that saying was a bit off. The blond ran to the window and looked down at the tall figure below saying a new poem. "Come down the window, Swing from the vine." Sherlock smiled and so did John. The man in the tower looked at the vine hanging from the window and bunched up on the floor, and then he looked back down at Sherlock.

"The task that you ask is not easy," John called down poetic like. "And what's with that line? It's quite cheesy." The blond threw down the vine and started to climb down.

John reached the end of the vine and was several inches off the ground. He had never touched the ground before. It was an intimidating sight, an unnerving feeling. He stared at the ground for the longest time not even noticing the tall man staring at him. John looked up at his friend with a wide smile, never in his life had he felt so alive. His feet touched the soft green grass and he closed his eyes to take in just the feeling itself.

The breeze wasn't as wild closer the ground, the air not as thick and when John opened his eyes he felt small compared to the large trees that he always thought of as small from the tower. Sherlock couldn't help but love the happy look on his friend's face as John looked around. The taller man didn't usually care for one's happiness and such but for some reason the shorter man's happiness meant everything.

"Freedom!" John screamed throwing his hands in the air randomly, making Sherlock jump in surprise from the break in silence. The happiest man in the world hugged his tall companion and although Sherlock stiffened, John didn't care. He felt exhilarated from all his emotions, from the excitement of freedom to the fear of being caught by his father. Sherlock on the other hand just felt surprised at being hugged. No one ever hugged him, _ever, _but eventually he softened and hugged John back. Eventually John ripped away from the hug just as Sherlock was getting used to it and skipped happily over to a large, four legged beast. "Wow! I've never seen a horse in real life before!" John exclaimed excitedly.

"It's our transportation back to London," The lanky man said straightening his shirt as if the hug he had just experienced wrinkled it.

"Really? Great!" The smaller man said looking over the horse determining how to exactly get on.

Sherlock sighed, amused at his friend's curious wondering eyes. The dark haired man slipped his foot in into the stirrup and lifted himself onto the horse. Once on the horse, he reached his hand out for John to grab and lifted the short man on to the horse behind him.

"Hold on tight," Sherlock warned before he tapped the horse with his foot and they were off at a running speed catching John by surprise and causing him to hold tight around his friend's thin frame.

**Kirby77DP77 – Thanks! Couldn't have done it without you ;D**

**Lanshannarra – I actually used your review as little guide line cause I wasn't sure what to write LOL! Thanks XD**

**The Science Of Seduction – Sherlock would be the cutest bunny ever! XD Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! :D**

**IAmTheMedusa – Thanks greedy one! XD And hurry up and update 'How to make John love me' I am dying to read the next chapter DYING! **

**OryonUK – It's all good ;) No worries, John will leave! And yay for Sherlock's awesomeness!**


	5. New people

**Once again ****Kirby77DP77 your amazing beta skills continue to amaze me. Thanks!  
><strong>

As Sherlock put his horse in the barn and spoke to the barn owner, John waited outside and looked around at the open grassy fields and at some large gentle looking horses grazing nearby. There was a large fence enclosing the horses from the road and the forest but the blond couldn't see how far the fence went from where he was standing. The barn, that was across a rocky driveway from the enclosed fence with a rusty truck parked on it, was pretty much up against the forest with some of the trees hitting up against the roof of it as the wind blew the branches up and down. John wondered if everyone lived in places like these. He wondered if Sherlock had a nice little house with a barn and some horses or maybe other interesting animals. The new comer of this new world soon halted in his thoughts of living conditions only to focus on a 20 some year old woman with long wavy brown hair, a revealing white blouse, and tight trashy blue jeans approaching the unsuspecting man. Her hips waved obnoxiously from side to side as she walk quickly and straight toward him as if a sling shot had just flung her toward him. John couldn't help but notice red string like straps sticking out of her jeans and over her hips and wondered if she knew her underwear was showing. He thought about telling her but decided against it as she seemed preoccupied by his presence not to mention he didn't want to embarrass her, after all it was her house and he supposed she could dress however she wanted in her own home.

"Hey, my name's Ashley," The slim slightly taller woman informed the good-looking stranger. Her smile was inhumanly large for John's taste and seemed to show every pearly white tooth in her mouth. Still, he smiled back at the strange overly nice woman and couldn't help but feel happy to meet someone new. He thought perhaps all people were nice with large smiles outside the tower, it would certainly be a nice change from his dad's ever changing moods of nice to mean within seconds of each other. At least John hoped these people didn't have random change in emotion.

"Hi, uh, John," He hesitantly responded hoping he was being agreeable enough for her to like, it wasn't everyday he met new people and he wanted this greeting to go smoothly. He held out a hand to shake hers wondering if this was the right gesture, she took it eagerly to his satisfaction.

"Hi, John," She uttered as if repeating his words without the 'uh' as she batted her eye lashes and ghosted her hand over his shoulder and down his arm slowly and bit her bottom lip eagerly.

"Hi, Ashley," The clueless man blurted shivering slightly at her touch. He assumed her touching him was a friendly gesture (although it was slightly bothersome and weird), so he touched her arm too, but it ended up coming out as a sort of playful shove against her shoulder. Ashley smiled at his shove taking it as a gesture of interest. She twirled around flicking her hair in his face and pushed her back against John's chest, and wrapped his hands around her body.

"So, you want to get together some time?" She questioned seductively, her hot breath hitting his neck as she leaned her head against his chest and her face under his chin (her knees were bent to make up for his shortness). The flirty tone in her voice confused the inexperienced male.

"Sure, that would be fun," He agreed with a smile hoping they would be great friends. The woman smiled too and turned around pushing her body against John. He breasts squished against him and he couldn't help but look. He'd only ever see females in books after all and seeing one up close was interesting. Her breasts were so soft against his chest and he felt heat of embarrassment rise in his body. This woman was quite attractive but she was also very bizarre and John found himself hoping that not all people were like this. This robust lady was quite erratic and the blond felt himself wanting to be farther away her and Sherlock to hurry up and get out here.

Ashley faced her visitor and warmed his face with her hot breath. John tried to look around to hide his uncomfortableness, but the woman was too close and to the blond's surprise she didn't seem to notice his wide baffled eyes. Her eyes had a mystical effect to them, they were dark and marvelous. John found them to be inviting and he soon felt his body relax a little and wondered if he was just over reacting. He knew Ashley would be a fantastic friend although he hoped this hugging thing would be a rare occurrence as it was quite unnerving, forceful and uncomfortable much like his dad's hugs. She moved her lips to his ear. "I've been so lonely," She whispered sadly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," John expressed sympathetically as she faced him closer than before. "Is that because you and your dad live here alone?" He asked 'hugging' her back tighter than before hoping to comfort her in her loneliness.

Ashley smiled at him gently as if to acknowledge his slightly naive character. "Something like that," She said moving her lips towards his, all of a sudden something clicked in John's head making him realize that these were not friend friendly gestures but something slightly more. He quickly threw his hands on Ashley's shoulders and pushed her away from him causing her to stumble back a little. She stood there shocked for a moment looking at John's wide confused eyes and realized something herself.

"Sorry," He murmured politely. "I didn't mean-"

"You're a fucking homo aren't you?" She demanded angrily. "I should have known when you rode in with your boyfriend. Why are all the guys around here either my dad or homos!" She huffed in frustration, turned and stomped away in to her house slamming the door behind her. John watched after her, a puzzled look on his face, feeling unsure as to why she was so mad and why she thought he was a homosexual. He had never really thought to much on the homosexual thing but as he found her slightly attractive, although she was quite rude, he wondered to himself about his sexuality. Sherlock was quite attractive too, so was did that make John?

Meanwhile…

Sherlock whipped out his blackberry and called a cab once he had a good enough signal on his phone. Gary, the barn owner whom Sherlock had bought his horse from in the first place and had been relying on to take care of it, put Sherlock's horse away as perusal for the lanky man was quite lazy. The cab service call wasn't much of a struggle as the detective was straight forward with his need for a cab and the cab service man was too busy for conversation. Once the call was done Sherlock sighed unpleasantly as he had noticed the barn keeper's shifty gaze and questionable looks. Gary was usually good about not asking questions, which Sherlock found agreeable, but the dark haired man supposed he should have expected this today as he had brought someone out of the forest with him.

"You have questions," The detective stated with a sigh as he glanced at his horse keeper. Gary's usual uncaring keep-it-to-yourself attitude had all slipped away along with Sherlock's opinion of how tolerable the elder had been before.

"Who's the guy?" Gary inquired instantly.

"A friend," Sherlock retorted dismissively walking toward the exit. The old man grabbed his arm and stopped him, giving him a disapproving look.

"I only know one other guy that comes around here. He goes in the forest with supplies and comes back with nothing. I asked him once about why he was bringing supplies in to a large deep forest that no one is crazy enough to travel through. You know what he said?"

"No," Sherlock answered wanting to call the man an idiot for asking a question only the man himself knew the answer to. But he restrained himself from insulting his horse keeper, because the information was too important to lose.

"He said, 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.'" Gary notified grimly. Sherlock was about to ask about the gentleman the old man was talking about but he continued to speak. "He's been going in and out of that forest for a long time now and all of a sudden you show up and start doing the same thing only now you come back with someone. I may be old, but I'm not stupid Mr. Holmes. I know something is going on, and it has to do with that boy." Gary looked up at Sherlock expectantly.

"That's quite a conclusion although a little off," The dark haired man commented flatly knowing the elder was right on John's account but Sherlock's visits weren't sudden but more of unexpected. Gary crossed his arms waiting for more answers as Sherlock pondered on the person that could well be John's fake father. "So, what can you tell me about that other man who's been going in and out of the forest?"

"Well," Gary huffed pulling his pants up a little and spitting on the ground. "As you know I don't like to ask questions or get in to the business of the people I work with." Sherlock rolled his eyes, all that had been true up till now. "But my daughter Ashley likes to get in to everyone business for some reason." The detective was starting to get annoyed with waiting for Gary to give him the requested information. "According to her, his name is Jim Moriarty; he has short black hair, short in height, and wears fancy suits all the time. He leaves his bike here for when he goes back and forth into the forest."

"Bike?" The detective restated as he absorbed all of this information.

"Yeah, motorcycle," Gary replied motioning outside. Sherlock followed the man outside where John was looking around observantly with his hands behind his back, patiently waiting. "Here." The old man said as Sherlock followed him to the side of the barn with John following after. Gary pulled a tarp off a camouflage motorcycle complete with camouflage helmet.

"Look familiar John?" Sherlock requested from the blond standing behind him.

"No, should it?" John notified.

"Hum," the detective mumbled looking the machine over. "Well, It's fairly new, maybe about a month old. It's clean too, very clean, there are no signs of DNA (such as hair) anywhere, nothing I can use, and there is nothing on it to identify where it came from or even where it was bought. The rider definitely has something to hide."

"Who's the rider?" The blond wondered. He had only just entered this conversation and had no idea what was going on. Sherlock didn't answer his question and just walked away with a curious John following after. They got in to a cab that had pulled up as they headed toward the road and the blond couldn't help but be interested in the machine. He had of course read about such things but it was much different to see a car up close than in a book.

As they sat side by side Sherlock observed his companions curiosity as John rolled the window up and down and looked all around at the inside of the cab. Sherlock's own curiosity began to bloom as he watched this once isolated adult turn childish in the new world around him. It was all so interesting, fascinating, and quite amusing to watch. The detective found that he could not look away from how cute John was as he rolled the window up and down with excitement and wonder. The consultant paled and blushed all at once at his own thoughts. Cute? Yes, he had said cute. It was a strange thought and a strange feeling and he couldn't help it. John was quite cute and childish which normally the detective would find ridiculous in a grown person but in the blond's case he had every right to be both and for some reason Sherlock couldn't bring himself to mind at all.

Sherlock wanted to observe John like an experiment yet at the same time he wanted to teach him everything. After a while, John felt the piercing stare of his companion and turned to look at him. Both of them looked at one another for a second before looking away with red cheeks. Never in Sherlock's life had he felt such interest and feeling for another and never in John's life had he met someone so, well, the blond wasn't sure, but comparing his new friend to the few people he did know he had to say Sherlock was his favorite.

About an hour later they arrived in front of a line of clean yet old buildings. Sherlock paid the cab driver and got out with John following close behind, observing his new surroundings. People walked about the sidewalks and across streets while the cars drove all around. The detective cataloged John's every reaction and movement for his experiment and own personal interest. John's reactions and such were all so intriguing, one might think such a man would be full of fear and flinch away from any and all movement around him but John was different. There was a smile on his face and Sherlock could tell that the blond wanted to wonder off and explore. The detective found this want for adventure to be very agreeable for this was a sign of bravery which would be excellent for his detective work and John's job as his assistant; although, it was slightly disheartening that the childish adult might get a little too explorative and get in to trouble. Sherlock felt a slight ripple of fear slice in to his stomach and grabbed for John whom was currently stepping further and further away from his companion in order to get a better look at the city's buildings and people. The blond just smiled up at his companion as he was pulled closer and stood beside his friend waiting to go inside. John knew he shouldn't wonder off but everything was so appealing.

Sherlock unlocked the door of a clean cut black door of 221B. It looked untouched and exciting in John's eyes as he couldn't wait to see what normal person's home would look like. John noted that it was not a barn like he expected but a tall building in which his friend lived which gave him the conclusion that maybe people live in all sorts of different buildings and structures. As they entered Sherlock did with ease but John cautioned himself ready for anything just in case, honestly he didn't want to meet another Ashley.

"So, this is where you live?" John predicted happily. He already knew the answer but just asking the question made this all seem so much more real.

"It's where you live too," Sherlock mentioned as they headed toward the stairs.

"Sherlock!" A sweet voice exclaimed as a short old woman with a decorative green dress, short feathered blond hair, and a smile that could light up a room approached them before they could make it up one step. "Who is this?" She asked looking John over with interest.

"John, nice to meet you," The new comer murmured shyly to the lady who seemed much nicer and gentler than Ashley.

Sherlock announced to his companion, "This is Mrs. Hudson, the landlady." John smiled as Mrs. Hudson gave him a hug. He tensed up and braced himself for a usual rough hug but what came was quite the opposite. The landlady's embrace was gentle and loving and John found himself relaxing and melting in to it. He had never had a mother before and he figured this might be what one felt like.

"Can I get you boys anything? Tea?" Mrs. Hudson urged as she pulled away from the blond. Her eyes looked back and forth at the two men before her.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock responded kindly yet a little dismissively and continued up the stairs with John close behind.

"Just this once," exclaimed the old woman. "Remember, I'm your landlady, not your house keeper."

As they climbed the stairs Sherlock stopped at the closed door. He put his hand on John's lower back making the blond blush a little, and the taller man opened the door. John entered an overly messy flat and forgot all about Sherlock's gesture. This flat could make a man forget about the existents of the universe, that is how messy it was. Clothes were thrown everywhere, vials and chemicals cluttered all flat surfaces and some of the floor, and there were an extensive amount of papers and files everywhere. The shorter man had to admit that his own living space was neat and clean and figured perhaps all people were this messy but is was a little disturbing. But he supposed if all people were this messy it was just another thing to learn from this new world.

"Well, this is very nice, very nice indeed," John spoke looking the place over still feeling a little uncertain about where this society's thought laid on messes. He looked over at his friend. Sherlock frowned knowing what his new flatmate was thinking by the look on his face, so he twirled around the flat a little picking up some papers and securing them on the mantle with a knife.

"Well, I could straighten up a bit," He reassured looking around at the rest of his mess.

"That's a skull," John commented looking at the empty eyed bone structure staring at him from the mantle.

"Friend of mine," the tall man said with a smile and then snorted a little, "Well, I say friend." John gave him a slight look of confusion but before he had time to say anything Mrs. Hudson came in announcing that she had tea.

"So, John, there is an extra bedroom upstairs it you'll be needing two," the landlady informed the new tenant.

"Well, of course we'll be needing two," John sputtered blushing a dark shade of red looking back and forth at his new landlady standing in front of him and at his new flatmate staring out the window.

"Oh it's okay deary, we've got all sorts around here, Mrs. Turner next door got married ones," Whispered Mrs. Hudson. John nodded with a polite smile and the landlady turned and left. The blond sat down with a huff, not of annoyance but just because that conversation was slightly exhausting and quite embarrassing. He actually felt attracted to his new flatmate and rescuer but he wouldn't admit it so he supposed denying it would be the next best thing. As John was about to start up some small talk to break his own tension, there were heavy footsteps on the stairs. A man with silver hair and a nice looking suit with no tie came rushing in through the open door.

"Sherlock, we've got another one," The man informed sounding like he was out of breath. The detective turned around looking at the silver haired man with a straight face. "And this one's different, they left a note."

"Who's on forensics?" He asked flatly yet with slight amusement in his voice.

The other man told sounding a little regretful, "Anderson." And Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh.

"Anderson won't work with me," the detective complained with an annoyed tone.

The man cried tiredly, "Well, he won't be your assistant!"

"I know," Sherlock said calmly with a smirk glancing at John who in return raised an eyebrow of suspicion.

"Will you come?" The other man asked desperately making the dark haired man smile wider.

"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind." The silver haired man glanced at John for a split second as if just noticing he was there then turned and left. Just as he left Sherlock jumped in to the air happily.

"Yes!" He exclaimed startling John a little. He was slightly confused, but remembered that Sherlock was a consulting detective. The blond wondered if it always worked like this. "Four serial suicides and now a note, it must be Christmas. Come along John!" Sherlock exited the flat with an excited yet nervous companion following behind. They got in to a cab the detective had easily flagged down and drove off to the crime scene.

**Ugh! Just want to say I'm off to college on the 18th, It's my first year and I'm freaking out and I hope it doesn't affect my updates to much…**

**Lanshannarra – YAY! LOL! Unicorn? LOL!XD**

**Kirby77DP77 – Well, without your suggestions this would not be as well written as it is now and it would most definitely be out of character…**  
><strong>Really! Thanks! I'm glad I did well :) LOL! You're seriously all about the detail when it comes to writing! LOL! I thought it would be a Jim thing to shove John off the bed! XD<strong>  
><strong>Without you I wouldn't even had written that part, I thought long and hard about your suggestions on staying in character that helped out a lot!<strong>  
><strong>Thanks so much! I really didn't think it would turn out well and then poof! It did LOL!<strong>

**IAmTheMedusa – Thanks! White night Sherlock… that with give me good dreams XD**

**Lolita-mist – LOL! Yes, he is as free as he'll ever be… OMG! Really? Thanks! LOL! That's how I discovered fanfiction, who knew boredom and postponement could lead to such wonderful things XD**


End file.
